Poetry
        

 

 

Clouds  Smile

by    Deborah  A.  Chaney

 

Clouds smiled for me today

parted to reveal

a cerulean expanse

with golden edges

of promise.

The flowers were fearless

opening with the weight

of summer sprinkles

upon the glimmering

velvet of nudity.

Finches used the sky

in a saffron dance

to delight my essence

choreographed

just for me

melodic noise kissed

my ears with soft

whispered songs

of spontaneity

and exultation

to quiet my soul.

For now I understand

that no matter

the world and its

horrors, I have moments

To share with those

that province

has scarred, trampled

with shame, disappointment

I understand.

 

 Deborah  A. Chaney   lives in the Pacific Northwest and writes poetry, novels  and  short stories.

 

    

My Thank You, for Your Hand In The Dance......

        by Pam Lawrence

 

I can feel you tugging at me,

pulling me onto the dance floor again,

I am blushing, my garments so sheer...

Your arms are punctuations and exclamations

holding my embarrassment.

Arms wrapping around me with your unique rhythm;

our hips bending like S’s

pressing that great adjective against the noun of my waiting...

Waiting for your describing.

I tremble, leaf bending to your song.

Your structure holds me up

this high rise constructed for swaying against the night;

the backdrop of our dark imagination.

This is the smoothest dance I’ve ever known

as my resistence gives way like an unjust levy

leaving behind only the primal need of my flesh,

crawling with want of yours

the scales of epidermis you shed in your journey

across the page, crumbs of treasure dropped for me to find...

Your words dressed up in mink and madness

whirling me on this floor, in shoes of electric blue.

You pull me close, close to your creation

whirling me here in your arms for all the world to witness,

spinning me with the magic in your fingers,

playing my mind to completion with your song

impregnating me with inspiration,

my sheer garments in a pile at our feet now....

Naked I am again

words flying off the perch of my lips with our song.

 

Pam Lawrence  lives in the US, is a poet, dancer, mother, grandmother and "loves all things beautiful and finds beauty in many things."


 

 

Winter Too Soon   

by

Lee Reynoldson

 

The air was spring fresh and fragrant

as we traded smile for secret smile.

Good wine and laughter kept us light-hearted, light-headed,

conspiratorially we stay like this awhile.

The sun was midday high and hot

while in summer fields we lay.

With sweat swimming salmon arched backs,

at love we play.

The sky was storm torn autumn and dark.

Heading home we dragged our feet.

The house was cold with waiting.

Outside we paused, our love like a sentence incomplete

The moon was midwinter large and low,

we were muted by its dark-light,

and suddenly wide awake stopped dreaming.

We walked, but could not out walk the night.

 

Lee Reynoldson  is a new writer based in the UK.